


Show Your Hand

by mermaidtablet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gambling, Humor, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Sam Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 00:53:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5437391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidtablet/pseuds/mermaidtablet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:  Do you think you could write a ficlet about Dean & Cas having to stay in a honeymoon suite because everything else is booked up when Dean drags him to Vegas for vacation because Sam is busy researching. Maybe room service and oversized tub included? </p><p>Read on for gross fluff!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Your Hand

It was the most wonderful time of the year for Dean - better than Christmas, Halloween, and Shark Week combined. He’d been looking forward to it for months: the yearly Winchester pilgrimage to Las Vegas.

No work, all play, and buffets galore.

This year Sam had bailed out to go to BaumCon next door in Cali. It was a celebration of the works of L. Frank Baum as well as all the TV and film iterations over the years. He was hoping to find rare copies of original manuscripts with the goal of gleaning more info on Oz. And, as Dean assumed, to be a nerd with other nerds.

The boys got ready to part ways as Sam loaded up his rented Camaro.

"It's probably for the best," Dean was saying. "The last thing we need is another surprise wedding. I mean, imagine who – or what – it could’ve been this time."

"Ha ha, Dean."

"And by the way, how  _is_  Becky? Already moved on?" He smirked, rubbing it in like an older brother should.

"Actually she's great,” Sam said. “Sends her love."

_"You kept in touch?"_

Sam slammed the trunk closed before he answered. "Course I did."

Dean sighed. "Course you did."

“Have some nice quality time you guys. I’ll pick you up some souvenirs.”

“Dude. Don’t you ever say ‘quality time’ again.”

Sam just rolled his eyes. 

Cas handed over the small bag containing their witch killing bullets, just on the off chance, and together they waved Sam off to his own adventure.

It was time to make merry.

 

 

Dean and Cas made it to Sin City right after dusk. It was still hot as blazes and Cas mimicked Dean, taking off his coat and jacket to roll up his sleeves. They had driven straight to the luckiest casino hotel in Vegas, according to Dean, and he had refused to stay anywhere else.

The petit desk clerk, whose name tag identified him as Paulo, tapped a few keys and respectfully informed them that the only room still available was the honeymoon suite.   

Dean was totally unable to process this information. 

"We are happy to offer you a discount, of course, sir." 

"I, uh....." Words. Dean _knew_ he knew how to use words...

“Thank you for the accommodation,” Cas piped up. “I've been told this is a wonderful establishment." He smiled at Paulo and accepted the room key.

“Yes sir, the best. And there is anything I can do to make your stay more pleasurable please let me know. For example, if you will be needing a second bed…?”

Cas shook his head. “No, that will not be necessary.”

Paulo beamed at them, proud as a peacock that he had aided the cause of love. “Very good, sir. Happy to be of service, sir. Enjoy your stay!”

Cas pulled Dean, or the sloppy puddle that used to be Dean, over to the elevator and then it was up, up, up and away.

 

 

 _I am not prepared for this_ , Dean thought as they entered the suite. 

It was a nightmare of pink satin and silk that made him feel all tingly inside. The bed was heart shaped and covered in chocolates. Champagne chilled in one corner. A trail of fake rose petals led to the bathroom where they found a bubbling jacuzzi – also heart shaped. It was like Valentine's Day had come in and thrown up everywhere.

Cas poked a finger at Dean's chest as he crossed the room with his bag. "None of your fake macho bullshit, Dean."

"I would  _never_ ," Dean insisted, earning a smile from the other man. He kept up the charade of being offended until Cas' back was turned then stuffed his face with Belgian chocolate, trying to bury the weird prickly feeling that kept rising in his chest.

 

 

That night, Cas won $20 at slots but gave his tokens away to the two elderly ladies next to him. They had him cornered for at least an hour giving him their life story, something about boats, maybe birds? Cas, of course, loved every minute of it.

Dean did not have such a good time. He lost $300 at blackjack and vowed to win every cent back the next day.

 

 

They made it back to the room around midnight. Dean couldn’t turn his brain off; he laid down on the funny shaped bed big enough for two, letting his thoughts wander and willing relaxation to come.

 _What a stupid design_ , he thought. _How do you find sheets? Custom order?_ Even though it was much larger than his bed back home, he was finding it pretty hard to imagine sharing this one with Cas, unlike the other.

He thought he had finally figured out why the room bothered him so much, aside from all the neon pink. It was the blatant objectification of love, the cookie cutter he could never be a part of. He didn't love with clichés like white weddings and schmancy luxuries. His love was deep and quiet and there were no conveniences. It was a yearning so vast that it may as well be pain. Besides, what hunter ever found a happily ever after?

And there was Cas right in the middle of it, in the middle of his everything, dipping a toe in the hot tub. It was all too much.

So Dean grabbed the champagne and suggested they go and check out the roof.

 

 

They ended up sitting on an old electrical box with their legs dangling. Passing the bottle back and forth, back and forth, they took turns making every toast they could think of and giggling.

"To the stars...which we can’t actually see right now due to light pollution." (Cas)

"To Fat Elvis, reminding us to be all we can be." (Dean)

"To Gertrude and Maybelle hitting it big on the slots." (Cas)

"To those about to rock." (Dean) 

"To my best friend." (Cas)

Dean took the bottle back, but instead of making a new toast he just finished it off. He’d been trying to find the words but finally he realized he just had to wing it and hope for the best. There was no easy way to say what he had to say.

“Cas…I don’t know what we are. I don’t know what the definition is. All I know is I like it just the way it is. Running around the country full of adrenaline, saving folks and taking out the trash...having you. But sometimes when shit slows down and it's quiet like this and I get the taste, I want the world to just stop. Never run again. But I can’t. I can’t have that life and I’ve accepted that.”

He forced himself to breathe. It was surprisingly hard. “I, uh, I just wanted you to know.” 

Telling your boyfriend (or whatever) you could never settle down?

_What a buzzkill._

Cas hopped off the box and faced him, giving Dean no chance to avoid looking into his eyes. His face was so close. He easily slotted himself between Dean’s legs, comforting him with touch and the steadiness of his gaze. Dean found himself centered, content, focused only on his...Cas.

“That's why you found someone who can run alongside you. Keep up to your rhythm, so to speak.” Cas grinned at him then, enjoying his turn of phrase. His hands now covered Dean’s thighs, sending warmth throughout his body. “And, well, you’re the only one who can keep up with me. So I guess that means we should stick together...”

Dean leaned in to the kiss, letting Cas deepen it as he pulled closer. He got the urge to wrap his legs around Cas, so he did, and that turned out to be a great decision since Cas immediately picked him up and eased him down to the ground. He ended up on his back while Cas pulled down his shirt and pressed kisses to his chest.

Dean was floating on top of the world when Cas suddenly stopped to squint at him. "You’re not a conventional man, Dean Winchester. But can you be a patient one for ten minutes?" For all the world he looked like he was holding in a laugh.

“What?”

“Stay there,” Cas said, getting up.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cas found the empty champagne bottle and carefully peeled the gold foil away from the neck. Then he tore it in half. Taking his time, he folded the pieces into two small but intricate bands.

He presented the bands to Dean. “For the slow times and the fast times, my love.”

His voice cracked, but his eyes never wavered.

Dean didn’t say anything. He watched as Cas gently placed a ring on his finger, then the tears came.

 

 

And that is how Cas asked Dean to marry him; how they made secret vows atop the Independence Hotel and Casino with only the moon to witness.

Its wishes released, the champagne bottle finally toppled over. It rolled away, making the sweetest tinkling sound; it did not break.

 

 

When Sam met up with them days later he had the biggest laugh ever at his brother’s expense. He caught him making out with Cas next to the Impala, right beside the big “Just Married” painted on the rear window.

“You shut your face Sammy, it was my turn!”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to pottaku for the prompt!


End file.
